


A martyr, quite willing to die

by Seisu



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Damian Wayne, Crying, Daddy Issues, Damian Wayne In Denial, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Implied Non-Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Parent/Child Incest, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seisu/pseuds/Seisu
Summary: If there’s a universe in which he was capable of hating Father, it’s not this one.Unfortunately.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Damian Wayne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 136





	A martyr, quite willing to die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rottencloset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottencloset/gifts).



> Dee made me sad so I had to write a BruDami fic to horny away my sadness.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction and has absolutely zero construct upon the hell we call reality. In other words, be smart and get real sex education and don't refer to this.

Breakfast had always been a quiet affair.

His father had been sipping on his mug of coffee, a newspaper in his other hand. Damian stopped when the man’s blue eyes met his, unable to stop himself from tensing up.

( _patheticthisiswhyyoushouldhavestayedwithmemysoninsteadofyourfather_ —)

“Father.” Damian had nodded naturally, body minutely relaxing to his command. “I thought you have Wayne Enterprise business to attend to this morning?”

That was the only reason he had come down earlier to breakfast.

“My meeting is postponed.”

 _You postpone it_ , Damian thought, a ball of lead settling in his stomach. He could not even bring himself to appear unimpressed by Bruce’s lacklustre excuse. He made his way slowly towards his seat across from the man.

“Sit here.”

Damian blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“Sit beside me.” Without waiting for a response, his father took his plate from across the table, placing it beside him.

( _donotbefoolishchilddonotunderestimateyourenemy_ -)

“Yes, Father.”

Damian took the seat beside his father, painfully aware of the lack of armrest between them. He glanced at his original seat, separated by the table. _Another barrier removed._

Damian mechanically forced himself to swallow, refraining from glancing at Bruce whose eyes had settled again on the newspaper. The food was tasteless (although it might just be his feeling) and Damian reached for his cup of Earl Grey tea and froze—

Golden milk tea. 

He only drank it before sleep.

Whiff of turmeric entered his nostrils. His reflection in the rich creamy brown liquid looked as confused as him, and Damian fleetingly thanked his upbringing that any fear he had was completely concealed.

"I asked Alfred to make it earlier," Bruce said casually from the side, voice disinterested. "We have had a long night. Get more sleep —growing children need plenty of sleep."

His hands did not tremble. He did not inhale sharply. He did not snap out that he had been trained to go without sleep for weeks. More importantly, he did not accuse his father of drugging his tea to his face.

“I see.” He said instead, voice distant even to him. “I will try to do so, Father.”

“Good.” 

The tea wasn’t drugged.

* * *

They were in the library.

Damian wasn’t inclined to spend more time in the presence of his father, as high-strung as he was, but refusing to do so might bring unsavoury consequence -one that he could not afford, not at the time and place ( ~~ _notwhenhecouldnotescapeyet_~~ ). So he followed obediently when Bruce mentioned the new books that had just arrived, unable _to_ come up with a suitable excuse.

He sat at one end of a couch, his father in the other -the couch dipping slightly under his weight, a reminder of the difference between them. His father was bigger, stronger and even with a decade of world-class training, Damian knew he could not win in a fair fight.

Not yet anyway.

Damian focused half his attention on his book, the other half on Bruce even though the man had not tried anything yet.

_(whenyou’reawake.whataboutwhenyou-)_

It was the right decision. 

“Father?” He called out when the man stared at him longer than necessary, case file abandoned, lost in thought.

There was.. something in his blue eyes. A trance. A rare softness that almost put Damian into ease. 

Almost.

“I have gone so far for you, son." The words slipping from his father's mouth seemed unintentional in its essence but it did not fail to make Damian stiffened momentarily.

“...I know, Father.” His father did not have to go through such length just to revive him but he still did.

The man seemed to snap out of his thoughts then, moving closer and pulling Damian into his laps, the action so exceptionally gentle.

_(yeshewasalwayssogentle,washenot?)_

Damian did not resist.

Perhaps it was because the subtle scent surrounding him, comforting and so reassuring because Father embraced him like he was something precious, something to be protected, that Damian could fool himself into thinking he was safe.

  
“I love you, Damian.” The man whispered.

Damian hid his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck. 

_(astriketotheneckisallittakes-)_

“..I love you too, Father.”

There was no lie.

* * *

He woke up.

The morning light spilt into his room and Damian wished he had the energy to paint it out. 

Even somewhere in which terrible things had happened could be beautiful.

“Damian.”

Damian startled minutely, sitting up instantly. His eyes darted towards the door, where his father was standing. What..?

“Fa..ther?”

“Alfred’s out on an errand.”

The man moved into the room, closing the door. Damian heard a barely audible click! short after. 

“I—why are you here, Father?” 

“You know.” His father began. “About the tea.”

A confrontation. Damian should have expected it. The man had been dropping hints left and right, not to test him.

No, it was for a confrontation. A confession.

“Yes.” He clenched the blanket tightly, a feeble shield he was deprived of many nights before. There was no point in denying.

Bruce sat on the bed and Damian struggled not to throw himself out of the window. He could not beat Batman and he could not outrun him either. Not in his territory.

A large hand gently caressed his face, guiding him to look into captivated blue eyes. Damian was well-aware of how beautiful his eyes were, that even in the Al Ghul lineage, his was of a more vibrant kind, _out of this world_. It was a useful weapon and Damian dreaded to use his most hated skill on his Father.

_(whenfightingmeanslosingfindanotherwaytosurvive-)_

Damian reached to take his father’s other hand, inwardly grimacing at how small his hands were compared to his father’s. “Father.” There was an upward lilt to his word and it brought its desired effect; Bruce stiffened momentarily just like Damian expected.

In the end, Batman was just a man.

He looked deeply into his father’s eyes, purposefully widening his eyes. It was a pity he could not dilate his pupils at will. Bruce’s thumb stroked his cheek, feather-light, before pressing into his mouth, eyes hooded. Damian slacked his jaws, letting the man do whatever he wanted, strongly wishing Grayson would burst into the room.

_(wouldhetrustyou?doyounotthinkhewillhateyou-)_

Bruce leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. Damian closed his eyes as his father’s tongue easily filled up his mouth, sucking and licking. Damian let himself moaned into the kiss, knowing it was a better choice.

He wondered if Father kiss him like this when he was asleep too.

When Bruce pulled away, Damian was slightly panting. He glanced at the large mirror mounted on the wall directly in front of the bed, biting down the shame that rose at the sight of his mostly pristine appearance. No doubt it would not stay that way for long.

As if reading his thought, a hand snaked up his pyjama and stripped it off, doing the same with his pants. Bruce pulled back as if to admire him although they both knew he had seen it before.

Damian still fought a blush under his intense gaze, limbs pulled into his body ~~as if to protect himself.~~

“Gorgeous.” 

Even though he would like nothing more than to be absent from this situation, Damian could not help but stare in a morbid fascination as Bruce stripped off his clothes. There was not an inch of him that lacked scars. Damian's own body was a similar story.

 _They were made of the same mould_.

A hysterical giggle almost escaped his mouth.

He covered it up as his breath hitching, a noise well received, judging from how his father’s lips quirked up slightly.

The man had come prepared; He took out a bottle of lube as he approached Damian again.

Damian stared with some trepidation. He knew how gentle Bruce was when he was asleep -he only woke up with some soreness- but that might not apply when he was awake. And Father was very much well-endowed, even though he was only half-hard.

“Don’t worry,” Father suddenly said. “Come.”

Damian gulped and hesitantly crawled over to where the man was sitting. Up close, Father’s cock was more intimidating, he decided. Wouldn’t he be split into halves?

Bruce took his hands and placed them on his cock before Damian could pull away. Hard, warm, big. As expected, even both hands were not enough to fully cover it. 

“Do you know how to do a blow job?”

Damian’s eyes rounded at the question, heat rising to face. He shook his head. In the League, he was taught the barest basics because children like him were expected to be more naive, _innocent_.

_It was more efficient to be inexperienced._

_Didn't it come in handy now?_

“You don’t?” Father did not sound particularly disappointed. “I will teach you next time.”

Damian’s heart skipped a beat. _Next time?_

( _ofcoursethere’sanexttime.didyoureallythinkhewillboreofyousofast?)_

“For now, you can just rub my cock.”

“Rub?”

“Like this.” Father reached between his thighs, spreading them, and enveloped his cock with one hand. He gave a light squeeze before moving his hand. Damian gave out a cry as pleasure coursed through his body. 

Up. Down. Up. Down. Damian too moved his hands sloppily. He craned his head to observe his father’s reaction, looking down as quickly when he saw the sheer obsession reflected in his eyes, drinking Damian’s small form hungrily. Before long, the cock stood at attention, lightly leaking precum. 

“Well done, Damian.”

Damian hated himself for shivering at the approval prominent in Father’s gravelly voice, too reminiscent of Batman.

A hand gently pushed his head down to the mattress, another hand repositioning his limbs like one would a doll. “I’m going to stretch you open now.”

A cold sensation spread over his ass as Bruce poured a copious amount of lube over his entrance. Even though he was expecting it, he tensed up when he felt a finger prodded at his asshole.

Bruce cooed at him, "Relax, baby." He rubbed circles into his back and loathe as he would admit it, the action did help calm him down.

The finger slipped inside him, rubbing uncomfortably as it crooked and moved. They were clearly experienced, familiar with the territory, another evidence of his father’s nightly activities. 

Damian failed at stifling the shameful noises that spilt out without his permission when something was hit. His father instantaneously focused on the spot, attacking it with a renewed vigour, encouraged by the moans and groans. Only gratification was left in place of discomfort. In the back of his eyes, he could see stars sparking as pleasure shot down his spine. Instinctively, he pushed back onto Bruce's fingers.

“You like that, baby?”

If he was expecting an answer, Damian could not give it, reduced to the state where he could not form proper words.

Vaguely, he could feel another finger joining in as they pumped in and out vigorously.

Damian’s toes curled as he was teetered at the edge, just a little more and—

“That’s enough, I think.”

Damian shot Bruce a ferocious glare when the pressure disappeared and the man picked him up by the waist, dissatisfied. However, it was quickly replaced by apprehension when he saw the man positioning him over his cock, hovering.

Damian circled his arms around Bruce’s neck, unable to trust his trembling legs. He let out a small whimper as he was lowered down, breath hitching as he felt the breach.

 _Too much_. It was too much. Father was so very warm, and Damian felt like he was burning, splitting and breaking and _dying_. Somewhere in the back of his head, he was reminded of hellfire and Lazarus Pit, and he needed to get away-

“Shhh. I’m here.” His father tipped his head, pressing another kiss to his open mouth.

Damian welcomed the distraction, honing on his father’s experienced tongue. He went along with the rhythm, trying to lose himself in the tandem of sheer passion the kiss held.

Even so, he still felt stretched wide as the cock buried itself slowly, too wide, and it was painful and he wanted to scream.

But he could not. 

_(shownoweakness_ )

Damian broke the kiss first. His vision was blurry. “Ha.. is— is it all in?”

“Not yet, Habibi.”

_Habibi. What a joke._

Damian made a strangled sob and it was as Bruce bent down to lick his cheek that he realised he was crying. And he knew that his father would _not_ listen and yet— “Father, it hurts.”

_Stop._

“There, there.” Calloused fingers stroked his face lovingly. “You’re doing great. Look.”

~~He didn’t want to do great.~~

Damian lifted his head. There, in the mirror, his prediction had come true. Naked, flushed, sweating, bodies connected -father and son.

“See, only a bit more, love.”

Damian burrowed his head into Bruce’s toned chest, shaking. 

That was when Bruce _snapped_ his hips upward.

Damian barely stopped short of a scream, his fingernails digging into Bruce's skin in an attempt to ground himself. He felt _full_ -the length of his father's cock drilled completely inside him.

Above him, Father gave a sigh of relief, face rested on his head in what should be a reassuring gesture.

“ _So good for me_ ,” he murmured into his hair. “ _So hot and tight for me, baby_.”

Father let him get used to the fullness for a while. Then he lifted Damian up, until only the head of his cock left inside him, and slammed him down on his cock. Damian choked.

Bruce set a deep demanding rhythm as he fucked into Damian's hole, and a new wave of tears ran down Damian's face as he was bounced up and down. Damian could feel his body opening up to the thrusts, the slides of Father's thick cock becoming easier and it didn't feel as painful. There was an obscene squelching sound as their bodies met and Damian belatedly realized he was making short keening moans.

  
His cock which had wilted earlier renewed its hardness. Bruce evidently noticed this and took hold of it.

A light squeeze was all it took for him to come. A cry was ripped out of him as Bruce gave two final thrusts, deeper than anything he felt before. A burst of warm liquid told him that his father had spilt inside of him. 

  
Damian could not bring himself to care, his body sagging bonelessly against his father’s as he felt his father’s erection softened.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” the man whispered, peppering kisses over his face. His eyes were dark when Damian looked up tiredly. 

“Do you hate me now, Damian?”

Damian squeezed his eyes shut, sweat trailing down his face. Pennyworth’s errands usually took up to half a day. And Father was insatiable.

He opened his green eyes, looking back into Father’s. He whispered, “I could never hate you, Father.”

If there’s a universe in which he was capable of hating Father, it’s not this one.

Unfortunately.

**Author's Note:**

> https://mobile.twitter.com/seisu2_2
> 
> Kudos + comments= happy author


End file.
